Unromancable
by GiftsofGab
Summary: It's been decades since Barbara, and a fair amount of time since Nate, but will it ever be long enough for their surviving spouses?


"Look, MacCready, I appreciate the notion, but it's really not appropriate."

"No way, buddy. After all she's done for you, the least you can do is treat her to some good company." The marksman shoved his friend up the stairs of one of the finer establishments that had been constructed in Sanctuary Hills. Deacon protested by placing his hands on the adjacent ceiling as they went up the steps, but MacCready pushed the Railroad agent's back harder than he could resist.

Once Deacon reached the landing, he turned to the balcony to see Nora. He would have been looking to exit via flying leap over the railing, if not for the sight of her. In a collared, sleeveless blue dress with a white heart pattern all over, she sat propped up on her elbows on the round, white metal table with her back curved forward. Her black dress-shoes had seen better days, but looked well-preserved compared to most he had seen. Her short black hair was pinned on each side with bobby pins, kept separate from those she often used to break into safes to find supplies to put together places like this.

String lights illuminated the top floor of what had become a restaurant. Downstairs, the bar was usually bustling with activity, but today Deacon only heard the sound of proud jackasses who would never let him leave before he got this over with. MacCready was there of course, and he at least saw Piper, Nick, and Cait around the bar on his way in, gossiping and not daring to look him in the eye as he passed.

There was also the clicking of the jukebox under the stairs as he begrudgingly took his seat at the small table beside Nora. She was looking away, awkward and unsure how to act.

He followed suit and they both admired the sight of the settlement from the balcony, their blue cushioned chairs that were in fair condition, and the painted vase on the table between them. Nora was good at finding things like that on their adventures. She had a good eye and good taste, he thought, and it was no surprise she managed to look so beautiful in a world that had been blown apart.

As the tape clicked in the jukebox, Deacon sighed hard while cringing his face. "L is for the way you look at me."

"Holy sh*t," he said, putting his forehead in his palm. He was bright red under his sunglasses, in disbelief at the shenanigans of his friends. Nora burst out with a laugh. He looked up through his sunglasses, surprised. She had her head back and to one side, avoiding eye contact with him, but smiling wide at the situation while shaking her head.

It felt good, seeing her smile. She did it often, but he caught himself admiring her almost every time before pushing the thought from his mind. He looked for words. "I… Nice night." The thousands of visible stars speckled the dark blue sky and the cool air felt good after he had worked all day in the summer heat.

"Yeah," she said, not turning her head but darting her brown eyes toward him with a grin. "But hopefully you'll get some clean rain for the crops soon."

"Yeah," he reciprocated.

After a moment of silence, she offered, "Sorry about this." She brushed her hair over one ear. He noticed the closed holes where earrings once hung, but she would not risk putting post-war metal in them. "To be honest, it feels nice to have an excuse to get gussied up."

He looked down at his own attire- a brown checkered shirt and dusty khakis from working with the vegetables all day. "Looks like you came here willingly," he commented on her dress. But he regretted the words immediately. "Not," he struggled with a forced smile, "that I don't want to be here, heh."

"Yeah. I thought it could be fun. They mean well."

Another silence as he looked for words that wouldn't come across wrong. "But they don't get-"

Soft footsteps came up the stairs as Curie appeared. "Ze others have asked me to take your order. Zey have prepared a brahmin or radstag steak."

"Curie, it's okay," Nora assured her. She tried to feel good about saying what Deacon was thinking when he couldn't say it himself. "I don't think Deac-"

"It's okay," he said coolly. "I'll take radstag." Curie nodded in acceptance of his answer.

Nora half-smiled at Deacon then at her synthetic friend. "Same." Curie wisped away downstairs.

"Okay, so what's their end goal here?" he asked once Curie was out of sight.

"We have a great night, fall madly in love, top it off with a kiss on the cheek in classic 2070's fashion, get married, and have 2.5 kids." She finally faced him, relaxed back in her chair, arms and legs crossed.

"Shall we disappoint them?"

"I guess so," she said with a fake pout. "We'll never hear the end of it from some of them though." Indeed, it was no secret that their friends had big hopes for the two of them. Leaving the room so just the two remained alone, rigging the Christmas exchange so they would have gifts for each other. But Deacon would have been right in saying, "They don't get it."

"If they really put up a fuss, we'll just have to oblige," he beamed, gaining more energy with every sentence.

"Deal." Her smile was highlighted by some sort of gloss- petroleum jelly maybe. His drifted as he looked at the brown eyes across from him before they blinked away. She was always hard to read because of this- always dodging his glances, like he avoided staring for too long. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate her physique. The navy dress hid a muscular form that had brigaded its way through the Commonwealth, but also wide hips and that perfect waistline the Old World businesses mentioned so much in the advertisements he'd found in mostly-ruined newspapers. But it hadn't been long enough. Even after all that time.

Then again, he wasn't sure how much of a protest he'd put up if she was serious. _It's not like she doesn't know that though, right?_

"It's not that I don't enjoy your company."

"Oh, I know. You practically beg me to take you on my every quest across the Commonwealth."

"Hey, it gets boring around here when you're gone! Tend the crops, make sure Cait's weekly plans to install a battle cage are squelched, stop Shaun from taking all the Old World do-dads you've collected and turning them into weapons of mass destruction."

She laughed. "That's important work!"

"Well, it's not like Preston can't handle it- though I think he's afraid of Cait. To be honest, so am I."

A giggle under her surprisingly white teeth biting at her lower lip to fight the smile. "I like taking you with me, especially on Courser missions. We make a good team."

"Yeah you do!" called a cheery brogue across the room. Cait appeared up the steps, two glasses of wine in one hand and two plates balanced on the other arm. She placed the things on the table, the dishes clanking against the slightly-rusted metal. "Steak and red wine, from Preston's private stash of Merlot or some sh*te from that gaudy castle."

"Oh, wow, that was really thoughtful of him," Nora said, smelling her glass of the deep red liquid before taking a small sip.

"Yeah, real nice of him to leave his room unlocked."

Nora choked and coughed.

"Well, enjoy yer dinner!" Away Cait went, Deacon's brow furrowed in worry for her mental health.

"At least it smells good," Deacon motioned at the radstag steak. Nora agreed and began cutting hers with the silverware that was waiting on the table before she had arrived. He did the same and spoke with a full mouth. "Hey, not bad."

"Who do you think made this?" She took a generous second bite.

"My money's on Codsworth. I wouldn't trust the others near an open flame."

"Well, I've seen you cook a few times."

"I have been known to make a mean squirrel-on-a-stick!" Deacon had always been decent at cooking, but he wasn't the one making meals back then. He teleported into a memory of her, standing over a brick oven he had built, putting tarberries into a dough-lined pan. She flashed that model's smile and he was taken back into the now, watching Nora sip the wine. He inhaled sharply and forced the memories away.

He didn't take another bite, but watched her calmly. Mid-sip, she noticed. "Well, don't let it get cold."

"Should we talk about it?" he asked, gaze not moving.

She slowly set down her glass in cool surprise. "Um, yeah. Yes. We can talk." He knew she probably didn't want this- not now, maybe not ever, but it had to be addressed. He had to clear the air.

Eyes still focused on her behind his dark lenses, he began. "How often do you think about him?"

Her mouth opened involuntarily. She couldn't hold his gaze. Her nails suddenly became very interesting, but she had already cleaned the dirt from them before getting dressed, so they made for a fruitless distraction. Instead, she moved her hands to her dress and watched her fingers fidget with the fabric. A nervous laugh, followed immediately by a straight face.

"I see him in everything. It's been almost 2 years since I woke up, but every time I find an old magazine about cars, or see a sailboat lingering in the harbors, I see a piece of him. He was a fixer, a tinkerer. Built Codsworth without most of the instructions." She moved her hands to the glass, rolling it sideways along her palms. "And of course every time I look at Shaun." Another sip of the Merlot. Deacon exhaled audibly through his nose and nodded as if to tell her he'd received everything she was feeling.

"What about you?"

He finally looked away, out across Sanctuary, the many settlers heading to their homes for the night. He saw Nick turn in for the night in what was his designated office. Curie and Piper, too, disappeared to their respective apartments, the latter looking back to the balcony and waving as she closed her door and click off the light. Deacon gave a half-hearted raise of his hand before she had shut the door. They were homes he had helped Nora build with the callused fingertips he massaged to keep his hands busy while speaking.

"It's been much longer. But I keep thinking about what I should pick her up when I'm in a marketplace, or wait for her to sneak up behind me while I'm with the crops. She used to…" He paused and swallowed. "She used to do this thing where she'd cover my eyes and make me guess who she was. And the answer wasn't… Wasn't 'Barbara.' She'd pick someone from a book we'd been reading together. Lennie Small or Jay Gatsby."

"That's fun."

"Sometimes, when I'm reading, I'll make lists of stupid "Who Am I?" facts about the characters for her to guess." He watched as a few more lights were put out across the settlement. "Anyway." Off came the sunglasses, which he folded and placed in his dusty pocket. "It's not that you're not amazing."

Her eyebrows lifted high. He had said it so casually. But it was always there, being said every time they were together, only without the words. It was in the way his hand would linger on hers when he would show her how to use a new scope, the extra food and water cans she would find in her bag when she was away with someone else on a mission, or how he would praise her endlessly and insistently in front of Desdemona even after the Railroad leader knew it was probably hyperbole. His dark blue eyes seemed to physically moved her.

"You're great," Deacon continued, standing and making his way to the balcony. He leaned on the wooden guardrail. "I just feel like, if I… If there's someone else, I'll forget that smile. I'll stop picking things out for her at the shops. I'll never imagine reading to her or stumping her with a new character."

Nora thought long and hard in the quiet. Maybe she didn't know, he considered. "Nate was," a shuddering breath left her as she fought back tears in her seat, "incredible. He could never be forgotten or replaced, no matter how I move forward. And neither will Barbara." The sound of the name out loud made him tense up. "But if you are still married to her, then I'm okay with that."

The jukebox had changed several times since he arrived and he wished he could go cut the wires connecting it to the generator. Billie Holiday's song, the only one that Travis Miles had ever played on Diamond City Radio, drifted through the speakers of the machine. He turned around to move back to his seat, but she was almost beside him at the railing. She was so quiet all the time. It was yet another thing that he appreciated about her. "Nora, you're so," he tried and failed. His brow was always heavier than his heart, which was then bumping twice as fast as the song's beat. Despite his stern-looking face, he was vulnerable. It was a feeling he only hated when it wasn't Nora causing it. She didn't notice his stoicness though, and placed her hand on his on the railing. He relieved a low rumble from his throat, as if he were trying to release the immense pressure her action built up. He looked from her soft hand to her smooth face that was almost-untouched by scars. She did not return the glance.

After a long while, he worked up the nerve to ask it. Maybe it was obvious, or maybe he was more like a brother. The Railroad as he described it to her, after all, was a family. "Do you…" He couldn't finish. It was the weakest could remember being since that cursed day.

"I sure do, Deacon." Saxophone filled the air when she finally returned his gaze. His teeth were showing as he breathed unsteadily through his mouth, wanting to say anything, wanting to put his lips on hers as the white heat inside his chest thrashed violently.

"No sh*t, huh?" It was the best he could do, and that best got her to laugh again.

"Yeah," she said throwing her head back then turning and swaying into him, using the railing to pivot. She placed her palms and forearms against his chest, the coarse fabric prickling her slightly. She was at a distance still, trying not to affect the walls he had been working to keep in-tact since he had started to fall for her, and failing miserably. She smiled up at him, shorter even with the pumps she wore. "No sh*t."

"How," he stretched the word, hoping the next few wouldn't be too outlandish, "about that 2070's classic?"

Nora nodded hesitantly, smile having given way to a more sombre expression as her eyes darted all over his face, calling him closer.

His lips lingered on her cheek as he silently inhaled. The smell of her was electrifying, some pre-war perfume made from a flower that was long extinct. He could not resist trying for the other cheek to get a second breath. She allowed it, this one lasting a second longer and she leaned into it in the smallest measurement, which thrilled him. His lips made the quietest sound of release when they came off her soft skin.

They held heavy eyes on each other for a long moment. Hoping the drifting clouds would help hide how bright he surely was, he smoothed his hand over hers on his chest as she felt his heartbeat.

Eventually, he nodded heartily and awkward laughs helped them move apart. She took her hands back and brushed her skirt. The sunglasses made their way back to his face after a brief cleaning with the bottom of his shirt.

"Well, boss," he said finally. "Can I walk you home?"

"In a neighborhood like this?" she jested. "I wouldn't imagine walking alone."

He grinned and bent his elbow towards her. She took it and he lead her to the steps, which he then helped her down.

"Yes, I have, Cait," MacCready argued over the bar, sounding like he'd downed one too many Gwinnett brews.

"I don't believe you." Cait probably had just as many, but could clearly hold them better. She was turned away from the couple, busy ragging on the marksman.

"Okay, well, I was married, so."

"Doesn't mean you kissed her."

"I have kissed a girl, Cait!"

Deacon and Nora didn't even glance their way as they strolled out of the otherwise empty restaurant and onto the sidewalk. The soft sound of jazz trumpets carried from the bar jukebox onto the street. Arm-in-arm, they almost glided across the settlement, hearts a little lighter, cheeks a little redder. He knew things wouldn't change any time soon, but at least their mutuality was out in the open. It was progress, whether he originally wanted it or not. He wasn't sure if he wanted to move any more forward, but he wanted this. Closeness at midnight, burls of heat in his chest. Moving on wouldn't be so bad, as long as she was there.

"Thanks," she said as they headed towards the apartments they had built behind the main garage.

"For what?"

"Thanks for talking to me." She was close enough under his arm that her shrug rubbed against his chest a bit. "Thanks for sticking that out. It was nice. I can't remember the last time I wore a dress."

"You look amazing, by the way."

"Thanks." She squeezed her hand around his forearm. "You know I've always liked running missions with you, right?"

"More than the others?"

She laughed. "More than the others, but don't tell Dogmeat. Dez had asked me to check out some L&L Gang activity near Boston tomorrow. Want to go?"

"Sounds dangerous. Not sure if I'm up for it. I should probably stay here and protect the crops." He stretched his other arm and rolled his shoulders. His jokes were a way to mask. He cursed himself. Always hiding, always going around.

"Your precious corn will be safe, I promise."

"Okay, but I want that in writing."

They reached the door to her building. Shaun was probably passed out after reading and waiting up for her. Nora tried to release Deacon's arm, but he took her hand and spun her away gently instead.

"I'm glad we can talk about stuff," he said.

"Yeah. Me too."

"And we can do that again, any time you're free."

"Will you wear something a little nicer?" She chuckled at his holey shirt.

"You kidding? This is my finest suit."

"Fine," she nodded. "I don't really care anyway. It was nice seeing the real Deacon- if that's your real name."

"I mean, it's not, we've established this."

Her nose crinkled with this laugh. "Well, goodnight." She motioned to her door.

"Goodnight, Nora." Instead of going for another peck, he noticed he was still holding her hand after having spun her away. They both glanced down at it and he smoothed over it with his thumb, for once not worrying about how long was too long. When he finally let go, he took a few steps back before she nodded and turned to move through the threshold of the apartment.

He stood in the brown grass beyond the door and waited, hands in pockets, until the lantern light in her upstairs window was turned down low. He started towards his own apartment across the settlement.

Inside the wooden structure, he climbed onto his bed. On the nightstand was a paperback, pages curled and yellow. He propped a pillow behind his back and sat up as he opened the tattered book. Almost the entire thing was wrapped around itself as he bent back the spine. The final page remained to be read aloud.

"'He who has felt the deepest grief is best able to experience supreme happiness… Live, then and be happy beloved children of my heart and never forget that until the day when God shall deign to reveal the future to man, all human wisdom is summed up in these two words – wait and hope.' -Edmond Dantes." He released the book's spine and it rolled closed on itself. "D*mn, that was a good one," he said to the quiet of the room.

Placing the book on the mattress, he scooped up a notepad from the bedside table. "Edmond Dantes," titled the page, and beneath it was a list of the character's attributes written throughout the long read through the novel. Deacon glanced over at the pencil on the nightstand.


End file.
